


The Ghostly Bordello

by LadyBinx



Series: Lucinda Baker [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Exhibitionism, F/M, Ghost voyuerism, Other, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBinx/pseuds/LadyBinx
Summary: Exploring an abandoned, magical bordello.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I set my friend a challenge a few years ago to write me a story set within the HP world that did not include the Golden Trio. These are those stories.

It was raining. I had summoned a black umbrella with my wand. I swore at the rain, I swore at the mud I was trudging through, and at the massive range of the anti-apparition spell that blanketed the area surrounding the old, ruined building I was headed to.

The countryside was growing dark, and I was squelching down an apparently inconsequential country lane. I had been prepared for the long walk, but not for the rain. If I’d have known, I’d have taken a broomstick or something. The building I was headed towards was an old manor house, now fallen to ancient ruin. Some of the old security, like the apparate-proof magical field, was still solid and reliable, even if the rotten floors and mouldy brickwork wasn’t. I finally reached the gravel driveway, long overgrown with weeds, unused even when the massive house had been occupied. Those who visited this mansion usually used their own broomsticks rather than the Floo network. They certainly hadn’t wanted to advertise their visit, back in the day.

The house itself was gigantic. The east and west wings had tall, forbidding windows with wooden boards over the ground floor windows, while those of the other floors were smashed and broken. There was a tall tower above the main wing, now crumbling and dangerous. From the sound of the thin, haunting bird cries, an augrey had made its home there. This magical bird was often mistaken for a banshee back in the old days, and even now its echoing shriek made some people shudder from leftover superstition. I never let superstition get in the way of my work, but tonight, alone in the dark rainy night at this ruined mansion, I have to admit I did feel… disconcerted.

As the sky darkened and the shadows lengthened, I pushed open the large front door, its hinges creaking loudly, the swollen, warped wood sticking and scraping. I whispered a light-spell to my wand, and the interior of the entrance hall was illuminated with a weak light. It showed me the dusty floor, covered with filth and piles of dust. There were no footprints, so I knew I was the only one to arrive so far. It showed me the rotten wallpaper, once a rich red but now a disgusting brown with deep black mould growing on it. The golden frames of various paintings, long abandoned by their occupants, were black with dust and needed a vigorous polishing. I wondered how much I’d be able to sell them for. I examined the paintings themselves, with their velvet boudoirs, sturdy steel bars, and leather harnesses all deserted by their enchanted occupants.

I had heard about this place only recently from a ghost. That’s what I do. I am an information gatherer. My network extends into every facet of wizard society. I have friends amongst wizards, warlocks, centaurs, ghosts, house-elves, goblins and even muggles. I’ve even been known to talk to dementors, giants, ghouls and certain monsters. The ghost in particular that I’d been speaking to was an old one, who had told me with some embarrassment about a much more recent addition to the spectral realm, a mere seventy years ago. She had been the matriarch of this mansion, before she had accidentally been strangled, died, and the house had been abandoned amidst the scandal. She had been accidentally strangled by a leather collar tied too tight. The house had once been a wizard brothel.

The ghost of the madam of the brothel was the first person I intended to speak to tonight. I wandered through the central hall, and one of the statues of armour turned to watch me as I walked. Looking at the strange and kinky apparatus in the portraits, I became aware of a second light-source near one of the open doorways towards the back of the hall. An old chair, fallen over, was casting a weird shadow as the mysterious unseen light moved. I doused my wand and hid behind one of the tacky golden columns, trying not to touch the disgusting detritus with my travelling cloak. My face shrouded in the same shadows that danced across the entrance hall, I raised my wand, silently casting a spell on my vocal chords. As I spoke, my voice echoed out of the walls in a way that even astonished me,

“Stay where you are!”

This was so that if the whoever-it-was was hostile, they wouldn’t immediately know where I was. I listened to the suddenly tense silence, and I couldn’t hear anything. There was the whisper of the rain outside, the crisp, distinctive noise of drips falling from the leaking vaulted roof high above, the creaking of the old rafters and swelling wood. There were no footsteps. There was no one replying to my demand. And yet the light continued onwards. I had my wand ready in front of me as I shrank back into the shadow, anxiously despite myself.

Whatever was causing the light was floating straight towards me. On either side of the pillar, the light was growing, somehow causing the shadow I was in to seem darker. I knelt, minimising the size of target I presented. What happened next was strange, both slow and sudden. I saw the creature come around the pillar, saw its translucence, saw its bizarre appearance and costume. On reflex I threw out a curse. I was terrified when it flew through the creature, harmlessly, making no contact.

And then the higher functions of my brain caught up with my eyes and instinct. I realised that the translucent, softly glowing and completely insubstantial creature was a ghost. And that the ghost looked so strange because, bless her, she was dressed in the clothes she had died in. She had a pretty face, with big eyes and eyelashes, long, straight black hair and dark lips. She didn’t look young though, like you’d imagine, but with a certain intent sexuality only available to proper adults. She also had long, slim limbs, small breasts and narrow hips. She was wearing high heels, stockings with suspenders, frilly knickers, a lacy basque and elbow-length gloves. She also had a leather collar around her neck, with a chain attached, that she carried mournfully in her hand. The leather collar was clearly too tight.

“Madam Melanie?” I asked, feeling suddenly foolish. The atmosphere of the place must have been affecting me. I got to my feet.

“You must be Lucinda Baker,” she said, in a strained, croaking voice.

“I am. Thank you for agreeing to see me,” I said in my best dignified voice. I cleared my throat. If I’d have been wearing a tie, I’d have adjusted it self-conciously.

“It’s no problem. I don’t get to see many people anymore,” she said.

“Did our mutual friend explain to you about what’s going to happen?”

“Yes, yes. I’m just sad it’s come to this. My business used to be a wonderful place, you know. Sensuous and exciting…” she tailed off, looking up at the empty portraits. Shuddering as though cold, she rubbed her bare arms and then pointed to something in the corner of the massive main hall. “Now look!” she exclaimed in a noisy shriek so loud that the dust shifted, and the augrey in the tower above them took flight noisily, screaming it’s forbidding omen of death. Madam Melanie was pointing at a rat, shuffling and sniffing at the far corner of the room. I cast a curse in its direction – it flew into the air, smashed against a wall and fell dead. “Such glamour and shine,” Melanie returned to her maudlin self-pity.

“Still, you look good,” I told her, trying to keep the irritation at her moaning out of my voice. She seemed to snap out of it – clearly she had been equally acerbic in her prime, as owner of a powerful magical brothel.

“You know what the worst part is? I’m all dressed up with no one to fuck,” she said, half a smile on her face.

At that moment I heard other voices outside the front door that I had not shut. They must have been the second party I intended to speak to tonight.

“Would you mind greeting them? I’m just going to hide back here,” I said to Madam Melanie, hiding behind the pillar again, crouching, just in case they intended to burst in with a double-cross without even the good manners to say hello first. She nodded, and as I shrank down, I heard them stomping noisily into the front door, forcing it wider open with a creak and a groan. Two of them. Both men. And from the sound of it, big and grumpy.

“Blimey. What a spooky place,” said the first one, his wand casting light across the hallway. From the sound of his voice and thick cockney accent, I took him to be John “Ferret” Jones, and assumed that the man who spoke next was Billy O’Shea. His thick Irish accent confirmed this,

“Yeah, but it’s perfect. Isolated, and completely apparition proof. I mean, unless this bloke can deliver what he’s promised.” 

These two were infamous scoundrels. Ferret was an animagus, and had frequently been known to use his unique shape-shifting abilities to squeeze between bars, under secure doors, and through air vents into previously secure bank vaults. Billy O’Shea was a remarkably angry psychopath, but a small-time crook. A member of their new gang, someone I had known back in Slytherin but himself not expected tonight, had contacted me with a very specific request. From which it was easy to infer their intentions.

“Gentlemen!” commented Madam Melanie, coming forwards from where I hid, “Welcome to Madam Melanie’s Mansion.”

“Fuck me!” exclaimed Ferret, “A see-through prozzer!” Madam Melanie faltered while Billy giggled weirdly. Melanie had been known in her day for her tough attitude, her stern, strict policies and her long, unforgiving memory. The more I’d heard about her, the more I knew I’d like her. But I guess after spending so long alone, in the dark decaying house that was once her thriving glory, she was vulnerable and fragile. Unfortunately Ferret was still talking, “Do you reckon if you shag her, you can see your cock inside?”

Despite my smirk at this, I did feel sorry for Melanie, so I stood and revealed myself. I had my wand in my hand, just as they did. I could see Ferret, a small, wiry little man with a bowler hat and long, bristly moustache. Billy was concealed in a shadow, which made me nervous. 

“Thank you, Melanie. I’ll take over from here.”

With relief, she floated away, down another corridor. I figured if I was her, I’d nevertheless be listening at a doorway. Maybe even, as a ghost, hiding within a column or beneath the floor. Anywhere.

“Lucy, is it?” said Billy, stepping forward from the shadow. I would have preferred him to remain there. His voice was jovial, sing-song, but his eyes were wide and crazed. It was like the warmth in his voice came from the fire of madness in his eyes.

“I prefer Lucinda,” I replied, keeping my cool nonetheless.

“Nice to meet you,” said Ferret, standing still. None of us moved, none of us even thought of shaking hands.

“I’ve heard about you,” said Billy.

“Only the best lies, I’m sure,” I said.

“What happens now, then? Where’s this bloke with our thing?” said Ferret, shifting uneasily. From his body language, his tone, and even the aura pouring off him, I could tell he was also reasonably unhappy about Billy O’Shea.

“He’s on his way,” I told them.

“I heard you and him used to be well tight,” Ferret said, keeping the conversation going like a spinning plate.

“We still are,” I said, my accent becoming more polite and well-bred in response to his increasingly urban one, “Did you bring the money?”

“Yep. All here,” he said, taking three leather purses from within his long coat.

“That doesn’t look like enough.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, you’ll be able to find us if we’ve miscounted.”

“Funny, it looks like you have small ears,” I told him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Well, you’ve got small ears. Look at them, they’re tiny. It’s like two thimbles stuck to a melon. But it seems like you hear a lot of things, doesn’t it. I wonder how, with such small ears. You need to be careful who you listen to, I suppose,” I said, my voice soft and pleasant. I enjoyed the look of tension that was creeping into Ferret’s face. I was determined not to make eye contact with Billy. The Irishman was distracted by one of the old portraits anyway.

“Hey, Ferret, what do you reckon they used to do with this bit of stuff here?” he said, pointing to a contraption in one of the paintings.

As they stood there for a moment, staring with bewildered perversion, I heard the third party due that night coming in from somewhere else in the castle. It was a smashed glass, the noise of someone clumsy.

“Oh, William,” I sighed, almost silently.

He had been in Azkaban for a short while, purely through his own misfortune and carelessness. These gangsters in front of me had committed maybe dozens more crimes than he had, and always escaped, through cunning or violence, and had never known that bleak, draining atmosphere. Azkaban can do strange things to a man, they say. It had done them to William. It had made him even more eccentric, amplifying his distracted day-dreaming, adding layers of paranoia and mania. His creative spark hadn’t been dampened in that place though, nor had his absent-mindedness or clumsiness. A terrible pity.

The two men were already advancing, wands in front of them, poised for action. I sighed at their melodrama, much more composed and calm now than I had been when I first met Madam Melanie.

“William!” I shouted into the old house. There was a rustle of rodents in the walls, shocked at the sound, and the shifting of dust. The two wizards looked at me, angrily, but they lowered their wands.

“You had better hope that’s him,” Billy said, growling.

“We’ll soon see.”

William wandered into the room, his wand lit. It shone up onto his face, casting a strange shadow on his one good eye, and an even stranger shadow on his eyepatch. It shone off his long, black-and-grey hair, dripping with water, and his straggly beard.

“It’s him,” I told the other men.

“Lucinda!” he exclaimed happily, apparently unaffected by the decrepit architecture around him.

“Hello, William. This is Ferret and Billy.”

“Good evening Ferret and Billy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s cut the bullshit and get on with it, eh?” demanded Billy.

“Did they bring the money?” William asked me. I nodded, hoping he could see me in the darkness.

“Did you bring the thing?” Ferret said.

“Yeah. It’s out in the back garden.”

He led us outside, across creaking floorboards and filthy, moth-eaten rugs. We went past lots of furniture under dust sheets, strange white shapes brooding in the damp darkness of this tumbledown house. Other furniture was uncovered. There were some very suggestive dust-covered marble statues – women letting sheets and drapes slip coyly from their shoulders, breasts, hips and legs, men posing with spears and swords and shields, centaurs rearing up, exposing themselves proudly. There were even some idealised mermaids, looking nothing like the merfolk I knew personally. And then we came to one of the rear doors, old and wooden with intact stained glass windows. William opened the door-handle easily,

“It was locked and rusted solid when I got here. I fixed it. Bit of simple magic. So, sorry I was a bit late.”

“I’m sure Madam Melanie will be pleased,” I told him, coldly.

“Who?” asked William.

“Yeah, who?” demanded Ferret, following behind us.

“She must mean the ghost whore,” Billy observed. In front, William raised his eyebrows, his imagination and curiosity already piqued.

“Let’s finish the trade and then we can go exploring,” I warned William.

He led us out into the ‘back garden’. It was much more than a back garden. It was clearly an elegant, charming garden in it’s time. The short hedgerows and the flowerbeds were all overgrown and thick with weeds. The benches and rusted iron tables and chairs were all covered in ivy. There had been a few willows in the garden that were now dead, their lifeless trunks forming weird shapes in the rain of the night. And in the centre of the garden there was a large oval pond, with flowing flourishes and curved angles, dried out and populated with moss and cracks full of weeds. At the centre of this pond, standing straight up, thick and tall, there was a fountain shaped like a smooth, beautified phallus. It had been dark copper once, but it had tarnished green.

Ferret and Billy were laughing. Even I had to smirk. William seemed unaffected by it, looking up with an expression of appreciation of the craftsmanship.

“Let’s see it then,” I said to William, who gave me a startled expression that nearly made me begin crying with laughter. Luckily I didn’t make a peep and continued, “The apparition tunnel or whatever you called it, I mean.”

“Oh yes! Right,” he said, going over to a sack and pulling out four small stone pyramids.

“Is that them?” Ferret demanded, suddenly disinterested in the giant penis in the middle of the garden.

“This is they,” agreed William.

“How do they work?”

“Give me the money and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell us and we’ll give you the money.”

“Just tell them, William. Then you can get the money and I can get out of this bloody rain,” I said, shaking the dampness from the hood of my cloak.

“Alright, fine. As you know, this building has a really powerful anti-apparate field. Well, these little guys here,” he said, setting down one of the squares, “Create a… well… It’s like, a funnel. It’s the same spatial distortion pattern set up by Floo powder, but it doesn’t need heat to activate,” he explained, setting down a second stone pyramid.

“Get the hell on with it,” said Billy, equally irritated by the damp.

“Be patient,” William ordered, and I groaned internally, wishing he would stop winding up the murderer. “Now, I’ve figured out a way to let the energy discharged by an incoming apparator activate the spatial distortion, meaning that you land inside the square. Automatically, as it were,” he put down the third.

“What?” asked Ferret, overwhelmed.

“Make it simpler, please, William,” I asked him, my impatience feeding my tone.

“Basically, it’s an override. Rather than getting squished or bounced out by the anti-apparition spells on this building, you’ll get guided into this spot,” he put down the final pyramid.

“So we can apparate anywhere we want?” asked Billy, scratching his head with his wand stupidly, dangerously. I got the distinct impression that he didn’t care anyway.

“Well, no. You need to have the stones set up in place first. You can’t land somewhere with the stones, you see?”

“Do they work when they’re covered? Like, if we put each of the stones inside a box, would that work?”

“Yes. The charms are extra-spatial, moving through several other dimensions than the usual three. You could put them in concrete and it wouldn’t matter.

“Well, that’s easy then,” Ferret said gleefully to Bill, “We can just get four safe boxes inside the vault and then just pop straight in!”

“Ferret, you twat! We’re not meant to give away that we’re robbing Gringotts!”

“Oh dear,” said William. He had a strange expression on his face, one that surprised me, “And tonight could have gone so easily…”

As he said this, there was a bang inside the square formed by the small pyramids, and William had grabbed my hand. There were two more bangs, and a figure in a cloak was already walking out of the smoke produced by such sudden, close apparitions. William was dragging me away, leaping over the hedges, pulling me with him. It was all I could do not to stumble. As several more noises meant many more surprise appearances, he had let go of my hand, correctly guessing that I would follow him anyway, quickly getting over my shock. As we leapt over the final flowerbed full of tangled thorns and into the relatively shallow dried out pond, the first of the curses flew over our heads.

The new strangers were all bellowing expelliarmus, but the two gangsters were experienced fighters, and were also finding cover.

“Who are they?” I yelled at William, as we ran towards the centre of the pond for better shelter.

“Aurors!” he explained, incorrectly naming the magical police.

“What are they doing here?”

We came to the centre of the pond and hid from the fighting behind the giant copper cock. Behind us, whizzes, bangs, smoke and explosions filled the air.

“Billy O’Shea! Throw away your wand and come out with both hands in the air!” demanded one of the aurors.

“Remember the other month when I was experimenting with that giant rainbow machine? And I accidentally filled the night sky of a whole county with bright colours?”

“Yes,” I said, thinking back to his biggest, most spectacular crackpot experiment to date.

“Well, the Ministry said that I didn’t have to go back to Azkaban if I did them a favour. They knew Billy and Ferret’s gang were planning a robbery, and they needed me to do… well, they needed me to do what I just did!” he said happily.

“Why didn’t I know anything about this?” I demanded, outraged and embarrassed that something this important and relevant might have slipped under my radar. 

“Very few people knew what the plan was. I’m sorry,” he told me, holding my hand and looking into my eyes as a spell flew over the top of the fountain, towering above us. The look in his eyes convinced me that he was sorry, but I’ve been tricked by his acts of contrition before. Our gaze lingered on each other while a stand-off developed behind us.

“Billy! Don’t do anything stupid! Just give it up!” one of the hit-wizards shouted, a different one than before.

“Fuck you, pig!” he yelled back, and fired off more curses and making pig-like squealing noises.

“You told me they thought your idea of putting wizards on the moon was brilliant and that they’d fund you?” I said to William, realising that must have been a lie.

“Yeah, that was a lie,” he said, proving me right, “The Ministry doesn’t give a shit.”

“So much for riding a rainbow to the moon, then,” I said, glad that at least some progress had been made. He had been working on this foolish dream for the better part of a year. I was also wondering whether it would be possible to sneak in amidst the cross-fire and take some of the money that Ferret had been carrying.

“What? Oh, no. I’m not giving up on that.”

“You’re not?” I said, peering around the side of the giant cock, ducking back just in time to avoid a stray enchantment fizzing past me brightly.

“No, I just need to work somewhere more isolated. This is a pretty nice place. I was checking it out from my broomstick when I arrived. It’s nice and lonely.”

“Yeah, and the décor is really interesting,” I said, sarcastically.

Above us, Madam Melanie stuck her head out of the fountain, making William leap up in fright.

“If you’re buying this place, you’re not changing the furnishings. I insist! Some of these things have been in my family for generations.” she said. William looked nonplussed, confused and scared to be having conversation with a sudden ghost while a magical fire-fight raged so close to them. I pulled him back down to the ground, and he landed very close to me. At times like this, all the little details stand out for me. As William sheltered next to me, I could see his pulse beating quickly in his neck. 

“Well, I’ll need somewhere to work, is all. And the fountain may have to go. I don’t mind it myself, but it may offend some people.”

“The fountain! Alright, it wasn’t in my family for generations, but it was really expensive!” she pouted, still managing to be sexy. I liked the way some of her energy and determination had returned.

“And he’ll need to put new beds and rugs and curtains in,” I added, amused that I had been right about Madam Melanie’s snooping.

“Oh, new beds, eh? And will you be visiting him?” she said, looking at me with an appraising glance. Most of Madam Melanie was still inside the statue, but William could see the leather collar around her neck, and was looking at it, puzzled.

“I might do, from time to time,” I said, with a slight smile despite myself.

From behind the statue, it sounded like a wizard had snuck up behind Billy O’Shea and forced him to drop his wand, finally ending the duel across the garden. There was the sound of magical policemen reading him his rights, congratulating each other, and confiscating the wands of both Billy and Ferret, who had apparently survived.

“I only wish I’d be able to join you,” Madam Melanie was saying, and William’s eyebrows shot up his head while she laughed. I looked from her ghostly face to William’s soggy, astonished one, and suggested,

“Well, you could always just watch?”

William looked from me to the ghost, and from the ghost to me. I could barely see him in the darkness, just the light shining on his wet skin, but he was so close I could practically feel the heat of his blush. 

“Ah, there you two are!” exclaimed a wizard as he rounded the fountain, completely breaking my tension. He had a tall, starched wizard’s hat and a thick ginger beard, clearly a red-faced and ruddy policeman of the old, hearty school. Probably in Hufflepuff. Probably captain of the Quidditch team. I fumed quietly although reasonably glad the fighting was over. “We’ve got both of them now. They won’t be causing any more trouble. Up you get,” he said, hauling William to his feet. Melanie floated out of the metallic penis. Both William and the hit-wizard looked her up and down, their mouths hanging open, while I sat there and watched them, amused.

“Will you all be leaving now?” she asked, worried.

“Well, yes,” said the wizard.

“We’ll stick around for a little while, if you want,” said William, his eyes on the ground, obviously remembering the look that me and Melanie had shared.

I’m not a lesbian, but I’ve always been quite… experimental. Almost scientific in my sexuality. Sometimes I really do think I should have been in Ravenclaw. I caught myself wondering what would happen once the magical law enforcers were gone, nearly forgetting about being double-crossed and betrayed!

“Would you mind helping Lucinda?” she asked them sweetly, and they both clamped their mouths shut and hauled me to my feet.

“What will you do now?” I asked the wizard as we strode around the gigantic metal fountain.

“Well, first off, these two are long overdue for a stretch on the island,” he said, and Ferret’s face turned pale. “A glass cage for you I think, Johnny my lad. You’re not going to squirm your way out of Azkaban, eh!” he said, kicking the squirming man. The police brutality laws of the Ministry are quite relaxed. He turned to Billy O’Shea, and a look of angry contempt slowly spread over his face. “As for you, William Jasper O’Shea, we’ve got something special in mind for you. You know one of those girls was the niece of the Minister for Agriculture? A muggle, yes, but even so, what you did… well, let’s just say the muggles have their own little tortures, eh?”

William looked down in pity at the two men, but I felt nothing. I could see the money pouches still dangling from Ferret’s belt, where he lay tied up with magical ropes. Billy had been bound and also gagged – both were lying there, silently staring up with burning rage at me. The look on Billy’s face made me almost pray that he died quickly in Azkaban. He looked exactly like the sort of man who would hold a grudge.

“So, is that it? All this, just for these two?” I asked, trying not to stare at the cash. The blustering hit-wizard laughed like a roar,

“Nonsense! Some bright spark has a plan. We’ll transform into these two, infiltrate the gang and take it down from the inside. Just make sure you deliver those pyramids to headquarters tomorrow. Good to have you back with us, Mr Grey!” he exclaimed, and strode back to the invisible square field of magic. He paused suddenly, and turned slowly, giving me a very suspicious look. I rolled my eyes, already knowing what was going to happen. “Don’t I know you?” he asked me.

“Yes. My name is Lucinda Baker. I’ve worked with your department a lot.”

“No, that doesn’t ring a bell,” he said, stroking his bead officiously.

“She’s an information broker,” William told him.

“Information broker? What’s that then? Anyway, no, that’s not it. I’ve seen your face somewhere before, and I never forget a face.”

“Traitorous bitch,” spat Ferret, and with a cold shock I realised I should have stayed hidden. When Ferret told his various friends and contacts about what had happened here, I would be in serious trouble. Best case scenario, everyone would know I’m no longer impartial.

“Listen, Ferret, this wasn’t my idea. I didn’t even know!”

“Bullshit, I heard you know everything,” he muttered angrily, and the boisterous law-enforcer kicked him in the stomach again, making Ferret cough squeakily.

“I’ve just realised where it is I know you from,” he said suddenly, looking at me again with alarm and anger. “You’re that woman who was at Grey’s house that night when he tried to blow up the sky!”

“I wasn’t blowing up the sky-” began William, but was interrupted by the wizard.

“Yes, it’s all coming back to me now. Bit quiet that night, weren’t you. And now here you are, at this shadowy exchange, late at night, in an old sex parlour. Bit suspicious, if you ask me.”

“So, you think you’re going to arrest me, eh?”

“I never said any such thing,” said the man, “But now that you mention it…”

“Oh don’t be silly. If you bring me in, I’ll call down such a storm of shit that you’ll never get clean. I know your boss, and your boss’s boss,” I told him. William stood between us as the wizard’s face started to turn scarlet in the wand-light,

“Listen, she’s just an innocent bystander. Ferret, this was all their idea, you can see that,” he told the gangster, grabbing the blustering hit-wizard by the arm and leading him away, muttering to him quietly, “Mr Horrendum, she is my associate. She helped me massively during this whole fuck up you put me in, okay? Leave her alone, stop making everything worse, take your damn prisoners and get out of here,” he said, in a quiet, commanding tone. I was lingering only slightly behind him, still in earshot.

The law enforcer, Horrendum, was fuming but apparently had finally become impatient. Or bored, I guess.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said gruffly. He strode to the square circle and apparated away. The other wizards and witches followed him, dragging their prisoners along for the ride. After the departure of so many people – especially the loud Horrendum and the struggling prisoners – the garden seemed almost silent, apart from the shrieking augrey and the soft whisper of the rain. William stood next to me, awkwardly. Melanie floated up behind us,

“You’re not leaving that magic square lying around my house,” she told him sternly.

“Yes, sorry.”

“If you want to move in here, do you want the grand tour?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact with me.

He tidied up the small stone pyramids, putting them back in the sack he’d got them from. I watched him briefly, musing to myself, and then decided to say,

“So, I’m your associate eh?” in a cold voice. He looked up, a guilty smile on his face.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d have told  _ everyone _ . I mean, it’s not like I can keep a damn secret!” I said, aware that I would have to raise my voice to sound any more angry.

“I said I was sorry,” he said, lifting the burlap sack over his shoulder. I heard the stones click and grind inside.

“Do you have any idea how much money we’d have made tonight? How much danger you’ve put me in now? Oh, why couldn’t you have just told me?”

“I didn’t know what you would do!” he said, getting upset, “Come on, you always have your own plan! Besides, it’s not like you ever tell me anything! We’re meant to be friends, but you’re so wrapped up in yourself and your secrets and your business!”

Melanie drifted off at this point, looking sadly at her ruined, overgrown garden, leaving us to our squabble that was quickly turning into an argument, the adrenaline still fogging our minds.

“You don’t seem to bloody understand, William,” I said, as patiently as I could, feeling the anger and sense of betrayal seethe within me, “And this could have been really dangerous! What I do is dangerous! You don’t just set up a thing like this and not tell me, you bloody idiot!”

“I’m not an idiot!” he said, truly offended finally, “You’re just a heartless bitch!”

I strode forward several steps without thinking, raising my hand to slap him. As I brought it down on his face, he caught it firmly, holding it tight in a strong grip. I tried to wrench it free and he angrily held it fast. The wild glare in both our eyes connected, and for a long, tense moment we saw our own expressions in each other’s faces. In that one electric moment we both fell towards each other like magnets, surprised and relieved and furious all at the same time.

I rarely let my emotions get the better of me, but it had been a fraught night. The long drawn-out dread, the sudden attacks of terror, and most of all the horrible, terrible betrayal. This quick shift from argument to angry kissing was a welcome one. His wet beard tickled my chin, and our faces were cold. The world was spinning in a whirlpool of emotion that even I couldn’t suppress. For once, I decided to ride the waves. I felt drunk. I could feel his hand wrapping itself around my waist, pulling me tight against him, our kissing growing warmer, gentler, but still as furious. I could feel his torso and waist pushing against mine. It wasn’t the same eager, clumsy encounter of our youth, nor the drunken embrace we had shared so often over the years. This was a violent, wrathful, mature desperation. It was the kiss of two people who had been afraid for their lives. We were both sober, and we were both buzzing with energy.

Amongst our own sighs and moans, and the ever-present noise of the rain, we heard Melanie moaning as well. Opening our eyes and looking around slowly, the ghostly woman in her lingerie was looking at us with her eyes wide, biting her lip, rubbing her chain across her thigh. I looked at William, and he looked at me, and we started kissing again.

Struggling with each others clothes, we stumbled through into the interior of the house. Melanie followed us. Our cloaks fell onto the floor, and we fell on top of them. I was determined not to think any of this through. He pulled me on top of him, lifting my top over his head. And then everything dissolved into pure sensation – the feel of his skin, his straining muscle, the texture of his hair, the scars on his body from cursed weapons smuggled into Azkaban, that no magical healer could heal. I felt him stroking my ass, grasping my legs, biting me in that way he knows I like. Every now and then either of us would hear Melanie moan or sigh or gasp. She was really enjoying herself, lying on the ceiling, looking down, or up, at our naked, writhing bodies. As we got warmer, more excited, and much more welcoming, she floated down to our level and lay next to us, writhing in her own throws of pleasure. She was pulling on her own chain, indulging in her own solitary game of sado-masochism.

I shuddered, biting my lip, with my brow creased in the near-agony of orgasm, feeling waves flowing up and down my body, my toes curling up involuntarily and my knees suddenly becoming sweaty, raw from the harsh material of the cloak. I felt William shudder similarly, heard his desperate moan, and the deep groan from his inner core. I held him close for a short while longer, feeling a connection that I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced before. And then before anyone knew it, it was over. William rolled over, mainly landing on the spread out cloaks but his arm flung out onto the filthy floor, the dirt and dust rubbing into his skin. The rain had dried off with the heat – oh, the incredible heat – but the sweat was stickier. On my other side, Melanie was sighing happily, and despite her ghostly pallor I could see the patches of darkness on her skin. She tugged at her leather collar, adjusting it, and at her underwear, tugging it back into place. She rolled over, floating an inch above the floor, her head resting on her arm. I felt a strong chill coming off her, like being naked in the snow, whilst the rest of the decayed, dusty mansion was only slightly cold. The whole setting started to register with my consciousness again. Somehow it didn’t seem so dark anymore.

“Yeah, I like this house,” William said, breathing hard.

“Me too,” I replied, all of the argument completely forgotten.

“Tell me more about how you’re going to ride a rainbow to the moon. It sounds… unusual,” Melanie said, without a trace of irony.


End file.
